


war of blood (love of mine)

by DisasterLesbean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, James Potter Lives, Jewish Hermione Granger, Post-Canon, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 01:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/pseuds/DisasterLesbean
Summary: After the fact, some argue when exactly the War of Blood officially started. Some think it was when the first unjust law was passed. Some say it’s the day James officially called it a war. Hermione always thought it was that day, the day that sides were drawn. The day she was forced to make a statement.She’s in her office when Neville slips in, a grim frown in place. “What’s wrong?” Hermione asks, worry chilling her in place.“Read this.” Neville passes a newspaper to her, sitting down.Narcissa Black defiles beloved war hero.Hermione’s head snaps up but Neville isn’t making eye contact. “Neville, what the fuck?”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 471





	war of blood (love of mine)

There are things you do, things you shouldn’t do, things you shouldn’t do but do anyways, and things you should never do. Narcissa Malfoy has always been the last, a person she should not under any circumstances communicate with. The reality of the situation is that she ends up the second to last, somehow, Hermione always ends up caving. She ends up crawling back to Narcissa every time.

It’s their way, it’s always been their way.

It doesn’t change the messiness of it all. 

After the war ended and Voldemort was defeated, the wizarding world found tentative peace. James took over as the acting Minister of Magic and both Harry and Ron became aurors. The war was brutal and many lives were lost but it was quick, only a few years. Some wars last decades, centuries. The last few years of their schooling pales in comparison.

Still, it leaves its scars. They all have their nightmares, their own traumas. They all have their ways of coping. Harry’s is flying, Ron’s is gambling, Hermione’s starts as work. It becomes something else entirely. 

Some people should never meet, she’s sure of it. Perhaps if Harry didn’t meet an angry pure-blood named Trevanti, he wouldn’t have lost his arm. If Harry hadn’t lost his arm to a pure-blood supremacist, the government wouldn’t have cracked down on pure-blood families. If there was no crackdown, they wouldn’t have seen the War of Blood.

Extremists react off one another, with the defeat of pure-blood supremacists a new evil had to show its face. The issue of pure-bloods and muggle-borns didn’t die with Voldemort, it just changed.

She doesn’t realize the changing climate, not at first. She spends the years following her graduation pouring her energy into the Department of Magical Creatures. Years closely working with Luna, who’s a bit of an expert on the subject, and Neville who uses his knowledge of herbology to help her locate magical creature biomes. The three of them become a ragtag unit, each playing a part in creating stable homes for creatures displaced by war. 

Her twenty-fifth summer changes everything. In so many ways, it can never go back to how it was.

She’s out with Luna, Ginny, Neville, and Hannah when she sees her. 

Narcissa is drinking from a glass of wine, alone, looking like she’s above this establishment. She is, honestly they all are. Still, it’s cheap and they usually don’t get bothered here. 

“What’s she doing here?” Ginny nods in Narcissa’s direction. Ginny’s eyes are narrowed, judgement clear. 

“Why don’t you go ask her?” Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes. Ginny has a lot of opinions about a lot of people but rarely does anything about it. 

“Why should I?” 

“You’re the one who mentioned her.” Neville smiles, playing into Hermione’s game to call Ginny out. 

“Yeah but how hilarious would it be if Hermione went over there. She could be all ‘hello if you forgot I’m the woman who broke your son’s nose’ it’d be amazing.” 

“Because that’s how she’d know Hermione.” Neville deadpans.

“War heroes are a dime a dozen nowadays. Breaking Draco’s nose? No mother would ever forget that.” Ginny insists.

“Well, when you put it like that.” Neville hides his grin.

“I’m not going to go over there guys so get it out of your head.” Hermione insists, going back to talking to Hannah. 

She wasn’t going to.

She can’t explain why she does. She’s coming back from the bathroom when she meets Narcissa’s eyes. She breaks her path back to her table, drawn in by something she can’t begin to understand. Narcissa doesn’t even look surprised. 

“Miss Granger.” 

“Miss Black.”

Narcissa’s lip twitches, in which direction Hermione can’t tell. “So you’ve heard of my divorce.”  
“I had assumed, correctly I see.” All pure-blood marriages were decreed illegal. That’s not quite correct, all pure-blood marriages that hadn’t vocally renounced Voldemort during the war. 

“Happy?” Narcissa gestures towards the chair across from her with her fingers. Hermione takes a seat.

“About your divorce?”

“Yes.”

“I have no stake nor opinion in your marital status, Miss Black.” A wine glass is set before her, she hadn’t ordered. 

“Weren’t you a supporter of restrictions placed upon pure-bloods? Surely, my marital status is the fruits of your labor.” 

“I was in favor of arresting former Death Eaters if they hadn’t changed loyalties. I had no say in this matter.” 

“You have an opinion. Your opinion is all the talk, it’s plastered across every newspaper from here to Australia.” Hermione perks up at that, a trail of dread. 

“Australia?”

“Don’t worry, darling. Even if your parents did remember you, they couldn’t see wizarding newspapers.” Narcissa takes a sip of her wine.

Hermione wants to throttle her, she takes a drink of her own wine instead. “How do you know about my parents?”

“Perhaps your ministry wishes to shame me and mine but I’ve still my sources.” 

“I haven’t given an opinion on the current politics.” 

“I think you should read a newspaper.” Hermione looks around and sees an older man drinking firewhiskey and reading a mainstream newspaper. She stands and asks to borrow it, his eyes light up with awe and he practically shoves it at her. 

Narcissa is right. Her opinions are splashed across the pages, old pictures of her rerun. She sits back down and takes another drink. She almost chokes when she sees the source. At least they didn’t have the audacity to say she’d said it herself. No, James Potter is the only one with that audacity.

Having the only muggle-born of the Golden Trio support his recent legislature? An amazing political move, if it was true.

“You really didn’t speak to him.” Narcissa observes.

“No.” Her jaw tenses, angry spiking through her body. She’s being used as a tool, a political weapon. Worse, by someone she trusted. 

“So what is your opinion, Miss Granger?” Narcissa’s leaning forward, that energy that pulled Hermione here going haywire. 

“Perhaps my words are best kept to myself.” Would Narcissa dissect her words as well? Take them and put them on pages for anyone to see? Would she construct lies, conversations not had?

“I think that’s the worst idea.” Hermione’s leaning forward to, the table is the only thing keeping them apart. “I want to hear everything you have to give, Miss Granger.” 

Conversation with Narcissa is a push-pull, an attack and a retreat. It’s fraught with this chaotic tension. It’s live wires, it’s embers begging her to touch. It’s not active until they choose it to be. Perhaps it’s chosen for them. They met eyes in a dive bar and that sealed it. 

Narcissa pushes and Hermione pushes right back, neither the type of person to give in. She isn’t sure who noticed it first, who changed the energy between them. Was it always this? From the moment Hermione diverted her path, both to her table of friends and the path of her future, was it always meant to be this? 

This biting kind of lust; the kind of attraction that brings two people together and causes them to leave the bar together only minutes after. She didn’t think this is where it would go when she decided to sit down. Did she? Did she know from the moment Narcissa beckoned her over with only a look, she’d be enthralled to Narcissa’s every desire? 

That’s the first time they truly meet, the first time they wind up entwined. 

She doesn’t say goodbye to her friends, she forgets she came with them if she’s being honest. She forgets anything that isn’t the sweet taste of Narcissa’s lips and the painful drag of Narcissa’s nails against her skin. She can’t think about their surprised faces when her fingers pull at Narcissa’s hair, hips desperately seeking more. 

That’s why it becomes a thing, she thinks. She doesn’t remember, doesn’t have to think. 

The mutual attraction feels good, so few things feel good anymore. Everything is necessity, everything is healing and effort. The only effort she has to expend in Narcissa’s bed is measured in moans and how hard she tugs at silk ties. 

Although that is the first time, after the bar, it’s far from the last. 

“What. The. Fuck.” Ginny is waiting at Hermione’s office, the others are also waiting but they look a little embarrassed to be. At least Neville and Luna have the excuse of work. 

“Good morning to you too, Gin.” Hermione strides pass them, faking confidence with each step. The last thing she needs this morning is flak for sleeping with Narcissa Black. She honestly is struggling with wrapping her own mind around it, she doesn’t need the responsibility of explaining it to them too. She’s on her third coffee and she knows she looks like a mess, she running on no sleep. She’s determined not to let it show. 

“‘I’m not going over there’ she says, ‘get it out of your heads’ she says. Then you go and have sex with her! I can’t get it out of my head now, it’s seared in there. Permanent, no hope of being forgotten.”

“Ginny.” 

“Oh Merlin.” Neville mutters.

“What?”

“You look like my grandma when she’s upset.” Neville says nervously.

Hermione rubs her forehead, one hand on her hip. “Just for that, you get to write up the reports for the week.” Neville winces, his hand cramping at the thought. 

“No but seriously, why would you sleep with her? She’s a Death Eater in all but ink.”

“She never took the ink, Ginny. It’s unfair to call everyone a Death Eater. Besides, Harry stood up for her.”

“To keep her from Azkaban, not as a person. Definitely not as someone you should sleep with.”

Hermione’s hand twitches, her irritation at the newspapers returning. “Do you claim to know who I should sleep with? Would you control my body? My decisions?” 

Ginny blanches, offended. “Of course not! It’s just...she’s not safe. She doesn’t have your best interests.” Luna lays a hand on Ginny’s arm, some sort of couples’ secret communication going on. “I’m sorry Hermione, I really didn’t mean to assume I knew better. It’s just that I’m worried. She only switched sides at the end.”

“I appreciate it, Ginny. I’m lucky to have you all as friends but I know what I’m doing.”

She has no clue what she’s doing. She doesn’t know why she slept with Narcissa, she doesn’t know why she can’t get it out of her head. She keeps replaying every moment, every touch. 

She has to focus on something else. She decides to focus on the newspaper.

She sets up a meeting with James, sure that it’s best to go straight to the source. 

“Minister-”

“Please, Hermione. After everything you know you can call me James.” He flashes her a charming smile. 

“James, why did you tell the media I had publicly declared my support for your legislature?” She decided to be direct about it, sure he’d understand.

“You do. You’ve stated multiple times to me or around me you believe the pure-blood supremacy should pay for their crimes. You, most of all, suffered. I’m concerned about you, I want to make sure you see the justice you deserve.” He says impassioned.

“I appreciate your concern but I didn’t say those things to you, you lied about it. I have said I believe Death Eaters should face consequences but that isn’t the same. You didn’t even ask me. Narc- I had to find out myself.”

His demeanor changes at Hermione’s slip. “Narcissa? What were you doing with the likes of her?”

“Nothing, I just ran into her. That’s not the point.”

“Yes, it is. If Narcissa Black tried to harm you-”

“She didn’t. Stop changing the subject, I’m-”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Hermione. I have some things to take care of. As the Minister, I’m quite busy.” He excuses her, his expression remains worrisome. 

Narcissa doesn’t look surprised when she opens her door to Hermione.

It should be weird how they fall together so easily. They both understand what they want and they get it, again and again. They aren’t together, they definitely aren’t friends. She couldn’t tell anyone exactly what they are. 

Time passes and Hermione splits her time between work and Narcissa. It’s fulfilling in its own way, a muted sense of happiness. She hasn’t been truly happy in a long time, none of them are. She thinks the older generation has it easier in a way. They started the war and the ones who lived got to see it end. Hermione’s generation? They were forced into other people’s war and it’ll never end. 

They were children that were made into adults. She shouldn’t have to be a war hero, she shouldn’t wake up screaming and looking away from mirrors lest she see those damned scars. Yet, they were forced to clean up their parents’ mess. 

Hermione has always had issues dealing with her anger. Her parents put her in some expensive therapy, she’d only seen him twice. He gave her good tips for managing her anger. Usually they work. Breathing, the most important. Breathing helps calm panic, it helps slow anger, breathing is just generally a good rule. She has a whole list of ways to deal with her anger, sometimes she runs through them all. 

Not many people realize this about her. Harry and Ron knows she has a mean streak when she gets angry and that getting her angry is the stupidest mistake a person can make. It can lead to scarred faces, broken noses, and dead Death Eaters. 

She’s always been angry that they inherited their parents’ war and allegiances, ultimately their biases. Harry became the leader of the child soldiers due to his parents' active role in the war, Ron was obligated for the same familial options, Hermione was pulled in because of her affections. Her love rest with Harry and Ron so that’s where her allegiances fell in. She wouldn’t have become a key fighter otherwise. 

Love is something interesting, she never really considered it in regards to Death Eaters. Seeing the portraits of Narcissa and Bellatrix, Narcissa and Draco, even Lucius and Draco, makes her realize something. Everyone loves, everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing. 

How must it have felt to Narcissa to turn her back on her husband? Her sister? All her loyalties and connections, to save Harry? It wasn’t an easy choice but she made it. 

She’d never thought much of the current climate but this is what makes her realize how wrong it is. pure-bloods shouldn’t be retroactively punished for not advocating James and Dumbledore’s war. Death Eaters are different, she fully believes in their punishments. Those who didn’t choose? Sure, inaction is its own evil. It isn’t the evil of war, the evil of wearing Voldemort’s brand. She gives her generation, like Draco, a pass. After all, didn’t they just inherit the war too? They didn’t choose to be born into Voldemort’s side. 

She has this realization as she’s digging into a restoration project for dark fae. Neville is tirelessly searching for an appropriate location that would satisfy their needs and Luna is the only one of them who speaks their language. It’s been weeks, months, since the bar. More nights than not, she falls into Narcissa’s bed. While this has been going on, more restrictions have been placed on pure-bloods. 

pure-bloods can’t meet in groups larger than three, they’re barred from learning dark arts or defense against the dark arts, there’s a push from some to de-wand them. Death Eaters who weren’t killed or imprisoned must openly bare their dark mark, regardless of whether or not they were pardoned. There’s even talks of making pure-bloods wear identifiers. 

Hermione remembers her grandmother’s recollection of the war, of having to wear bands. She knows the dangerous territory the wizarding world is sinking into. 

After the fact, some argue when exactly the War of Blood officially started. Some think it was when the first unjust law was passed. Some say it’s the day James officially called it a war. Hermione always thought it was that day, the day that sides were drawn. The day she was forced to make a statement. 

She’s in her office when Neville slips in, a grim frown in place. “What’s wrong?” Hermione asks, worry chilling her in place.

“Read this.” Neville passes a newspaper to her, sitting down. 

**Narcissa Black defiles beloved war hero.**

Hermione’s head snaps up but Neville isn’t making eye contact. “Neville, what the fuck?”

“Just read it all. Trust me.”

**Several months ago, Hermione Granger and her friends (Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott) were at Ralphi’s. During their outing, Narcissa Black had taken an interest in her. She lured Hermione to her table, threatened her parents’ lives, and supplied her with alcohol. We must wonder on the contents of this alcohol considering what happens next. Narcissa takes Hermione and leaves the bar, both parties being handsy and physical. You heard it here, Narcissa had her way with one of the golden trio. Below, we have a quote from Minister Potter about the situation. He was a key witness and source to this horrid affair.**

**“This just shows the depravity of these pure-bloods. Hermione can’t even go out with her friends without finding herself under attack, threatened by the supremacy. If we continue to allow them to go unchecked, these kind of horrors will become the norm. She used her power, whether it be threats, alcohol, or even her stature, to defile Hermione. I remind you, all of you, this is the same woman who stood by while Hermione was tortured in front of her.**

Hermione throws the newspaper across the room, her heart slamming against her rib cage. She tries to breathe, it fails. Anger it is then. “I told James I didn’t like the last time he spoke about me now he does this?” She seethes, her rage coming alive. “He did get stuck on Narcissa’s name but I thought...he really said all that. And how’d he-” She cuts herself off, looking up at Neville. “Ginny?”

“No, she wouldn’t have.” Neville quickly defends her. It could have been anyone at the bar but it makes sense for it to be one of her friends, they’re the only ones who know what really happened. What’s still happening. 

“Then who did?” 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know you’ve dealt with these kinds of articles before but no one should have to. At the end, James calls for his reelection and proposes more restrictions.” 

“Of course.” Hermione grits out. This is the second time he’s taken her narrative for his own use. 

“What are you going to do?” Neville asks. 

“Go make sure Narcissa is okay, I guess.” 

He gives her an odd look. She doesn’t blame him. Nothing is exactly normal between Narcissa and her, still, that article inferred a lot of things about Narcissa. “He’s calling for her arrest, you know.” 

“Are you serious?”

“I’d make sure you see her soon, I don’t know how long it will be before you can again.”

She goes to the manor and finds the doors shut to her. “Narcissa! Open the door for Morgana’s sake.” 

“Why should I?” Narcissa’s cool voice comes from the other side. “How do I know this isn’t a raid attempt? Perhaps you seek revenge for your honor. I can hear them calling for my head from here.”

“We both know it wasn’t like that.”

“Do we now?”

“Yes.”

“Then who told Potter all those things, darling? I can tell you that I’m not meeting him over tea and discussing who I’ve been sleeping with.”

“I didn’t either.” Saying Narcissa’s name is hardly a declaration and she didn’t mention any details of their intimacy, no, this was someone else.

“Potter speaking for you again? A tired excuse.”

“An eager politician more like. I didn’t say anything to anyone, I don’t agree with the article.” She places her hand on the door, trying to reach through to Narcissa. She’s always been better at the physical aspect of their relationship. She doesn’t understand Narcissa, she clashes with her often. 

“You don’t? It paints such a pretty picture. You, a helpless victim in need of saving by the muggle-born loving ministry. Me, a heartless pure-blood supremacist who’d all but forced you into my bed.” Hermione doesn’t need the obvious political mechanisms explained to her. She knows Narcissa is just baiting her, saying Hermione is a fool without having to say it. Narcissa’s mastered insulting people without ever really saying an insult. 

“Narcis-” She hears a slam behind the door and knows she left Hermione. Hermione groans and hits her head against the door. She’s pissed at James, disgusted by the political climate, and annoyed by Narcissa’s immature reaction.

If Trevanti hadn’t taken Harry’s arm, maybe James’ campaign wouldn’t have started.

If James hadn’t used Hermione, maybe she wouldn’t have made her statement. 

The camera is clicking, about to turn on. She knows this will reach more people, especially her generation. James wants to use newspaper’s like it’s still his war, it’s still Voldemort. That’s not how the world works anymore.

“Hello, it’s actually me this time. Hermione Granger, reporting live from her apartment. Twice now, the minister has used words I hadn’t said while claiming my name. I am here to set the record straight. I did not speak up for restrictions against pure-bloods, moreover, I do not support them.” She hears someone choke in the room, likely one of the camera people.

“Considering the dangerous nature of James’ most recent claim, I don’t want anyone making hasty decisions. I was not coerced into sleeping with Narcissa in any way. To call for actions taken against her or pure-bloods when relations were voluntary and consensual is unjust. I do not support further restrictions, I in fact oppose them. I oppose restrictions that are currently in place. I oppose the use of my voice when I do not give consent or permission to use it. Voldemort wanted to control our bodies, us muggle-borns, he wanted to annihilate us. How is it okay when our own minister tries to use my body, my voice, for his own gain? Unless it comes from me, do not believe I’ve said it. Do not take action against Narcissa Black or pure-bloods at large as some form of misdirected justice.”

She’d been angry when she spoke out but she meant her words. She didn’t consider how divisive they are, she hadn’t considered the effect. 

That’s the day that first organized conflict broke out.

Aurors tried breaking up a group of pure-bloods who’d gathered to watch her speak and they drew their wands. Every pure-blood on the block joined the struggle. In the end they’d subdued the aurors and left them uninjured. They made their demands clear, leave them alone. 

Back up arrived and they were all arrested, one was killed in the struggle.

Similar attacks happen. Aurors or the ministry will try to enforce laws such as no gathering or marriage and pure-bloods fight back. An odd alliance forms.

Muggle-borns take the pure-bloods side. After all, it’s largely other pure-bloods or half-bloods seeking to punish those who didn’t take sides. Muggle-borns understand what it means to be oppressed and punished. It causes the ministry to lose its legs, they’d founded their entire campaign in protecting and getting justice for muggle-borns. 

Hermione gets made into the political figure head of muggle-borns who support pure-bloods. She hadn’t meant to start a war or become a leader, it just happened.

She loses friends. Friends who can’t see those pure-bloods as anything but Death Eaters. Although most muggle-borns side with pure-bloods, they’re outnumbered. The general population agrees with James and the ministry.

She also loses Narcissa. 

At first she thought it was because it would be dangerous to be associated with Hermione.

“We aren’t in a relationship, darling. You spoke as if we were dating, we are nothing to each other. I’m bored of your company.” Narcissa tells her when Hermione had come by one evening for an answer. 

She gets it, or at least she pretends she does. In theory she gets being unattached but after months of sleeping together, Hermione can’t help being attached in some way. She didn’t think Narcissa would kick her to the curb quite so easily but she’d never said otherwise. Narcissa never said she wouldn’t and for that, Hermione accepts it as it is. It doesn’t mean she likes it, but she’s willing to back down.

It’s not her fault her hand gets forced and an unfortunate declaration is aired. 

Everyone has slowly distanced themselves from Hermione. Each for their own reasons. Some don’t want to be involved in another war, some don’t want to be affiliated with her, and there’s Neville. 

“She’s Bellatrix’s sister.” He shrugs helplessly, like he doesn’t want to draw the line but must. 

In the years after Hogwarts, her social circle grew. It’s not that Harry, Ron, and her stopped being friends. They just stopped being each other’s only friends. Somehow, the War of Blood brings them back together. After fighting throughout their entire youth together, conflict turns out to be their specialty. 

They see everyone fleeing the scene, choosing sides, and against all odds, they choose hers.

“Think your dad will call us the shite trio now?” Ron asks Harry one day.

Harry twitches, uncomfortable with any mention of his dad. “He’ll say you two are corrupting me, more likely.” 

“Maybe Ron, I’m not the troublemaker.”

“Ha! Welcome to troublemaker hall, Hermione. You get screamers and disappointed friends here.” Ron jostles Hermione, trying to cheer her up.

“I miss them.” Hermione grumbles for possibly the twelfth time since they came over. 

“They’ll come around.” Ron assures her. 

“She will too, you know.” Harry hesitantly adds. Hermione shoots him a warning look before returning to tinkering with his limb. It has some of the most complex enchantments thanks to the company he keeps, obviously including Hermione. 

It’s a combination of muggle technology and magical enchantments, leading to possibly the most advanced prosthetic. She keeps her eyes on the prosthetic instead of looking up. “I couldn’t care less.” 

Narcissa does come back around and they fall together again. Hermione doesn’t ask about Narcissa’s cutting words last time or bring them up. Somethings are better left unsaid. 

Narcissa kicks her out afterwards.

Hermione fumes for two weeks, taking it out on anyone who dares question her loyalties or goals. 

Her friends come back just as quick as they left. Some refuse to speak on her political affiliation while it’s all others can speak about. 

It becomes a cycle of on again off again, their roughest period. It’s the time that ultimately worries her friends. Sometimes Narcissa will call her over, sometimes she will ignore her with all the viciousness of a dementor. 

She decides the best way to sort this mess out is to sort the political tensions out.

“Do you have your speech ready?” Narcissa asks her while she ties her shoes.

“Of course.” 

Narcissa sits up, holding the sheets to her chest. “Darling, you forgot something.” Narcissa tosses the belt to Hermione.

“Thanks.” Hermione slides the belt beneath her loops. Narcissa comes over and buckles her belt.

“Don’t mess it up for the rest of us.” She says sternly. Hermione knows how important her speeches are, that one mistake could derail everything. She hardly needs the reminder. In fact, it irritates her some. Narcissa won’t make time for her but she’ll make time to bully her over politics.

That’s part of the situation, she finds out. Narcissa is hot and cold, sometimes in a better mood than other times. Everytime, she has something to say about politics. 

Narcissa’s looking at her with an examining gaze. “You’re up to something.” She accuses Hermione.

“What makes you think that?”

“You’ve stirred the tea longer than it usually takes you to drink it.”

Hermione quirks a brow, pausing her aforementioned stirring. “Have you been paying that much attention, Miss Black?” 

“You hardly consume my thoughts, Miss Granger.” Narcissa refutes immediately, on the defensive. 

“Yet, you claim to have such a thorough understanding of my tea taking habits.”

“I’ve enough experience by now, darling.”

Hermione sips at her tea, hiding her growing grin. It wouldn’t do for Narcissa to take note of that particular reaction. “I have something for you.” She pulls out a necklace that shines when the sunlight catches it. It’s expensive, costly enough that even a glance would tell an observer that. It’s the cool silver of Slytherin and it’s ornately designed. All in all, exactly something Narcissa Black would wear. It’s also something she doesn’t own.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Narcissa murmurs, a hint of genuine surprise. Hermione doesn’t say that she had it custom made. Narcissa’s expression closes off, disinterest sliding in place. “I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that we are not in a relationship.”

“Of course, I simply wished to give you a gift.” Hermione knows pure-blood manners well enough to know Narcissa must accept the gift. She also knows by the angry twist of Narcissa’s lips that she won’t be seeing her for some time. 

Lucius decides to mess things up and force her hand. 

“I’m here to issue a duel.” Lucius declares amidst the ministry. Her coworkers all eye her, the gathered are of mixed affiliations. 

“I’m afraid dueling isn’t permitted.” Hermione replies curtly. She briefly looks Narcissa’s way but she doesn’t focus on her. Narcissa followed Lucius in, a bit of a rush in her footsteps. The quick look was enough for Hermione to see the glistening silver against Narcissa’s pale skin.

“According to pure-blood laws, it is. Minister Potter hasn’t succeeded in abolishing all of our laws, not yet. I challenge you to an Honor Duel, for my ex-wife.”

Harry gives her a look, they’d been returning from lunch. She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to recall all the jargon and laws she’s been absorbing since she became a political figurehead. She can’t seem to recall it.

“He’s attempting to avenge Narcissa’s honor. He’s challenging your honor at the same time. The basis of an Honor Duel is that you’ve dishonored Narcissa. You can clear your name by dueling him.” Harry tells her.

“You’ve been reading up?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to catch up to you. Looks like I grabbed some different sources.” Harry says abashedly.

“It’s offly patriarchal, isn’t it? He gets to fight for her honor?”

Harry nods, taking books from Hermione’s hands. “There’s a lot of laws within the wizarding world that could do with some restructuring.”

“There’s more.” Narcissa interjects, voice a little higher than usual. Likely due to the very public nature of this confrontation. They’re not very public people, not about whatever is between them. This can also further devastate Narcissa’s reputation. Hermione wants to duel Lucius just for his blustering actions. “If you refuse the duel, we can no longer see or speak to one another.” At that, Lucius looks smug. 

“Very well.” Hermione nods, looking at the gathered group. 

“You’re giving up already?” Lucius asks as if he’s disappointed by the lack of fighting. Hermione looks Narcissa’s way, looking for some sign. A signal of what Narcissa prefers, a sign of some consent over this challenge. Lucius may take a duel publicly, risking everything Narcissa has worked for, but she isn’t Lucius. Narcissa subtly nods, lowering her head the smallest fraction of an inch. 

“Of course not, I accept your duel. Harry ensure the crowd stays in line and doesn’t get hurt?” Hermione wouldn’t allow the arrogance of Lucius Malfoy to go unchecked.

“I’ve got your back, ‘Mione.”

The Honor Duel makes several points publicly. Harry Potter has Hermione’s back, he’s on her side in what is becoming an undeniable conflict. Hermione is willing to fight for Narcissa, further inciting rumors. Hermione has become a deadly fighter and ultimately comes out the victor. 

It showcases her as a threat.

A week and an illegal raid later, James publicly calls the conflict a war.

She expects Narcissa to pull away again, punish her for Lucius actions. The reality is much different. She pulls her closer, almost unbearably so. The wizarding world is in shambles again, all debating their relationship. Hermione feels like it’s impossible to escape her own name nowadays. 

“What are you thinking about?” Narcissa asks, head turned towards her. It’s rare but Narcissa has started to permit Hermione overnight. 

“James.” Hermione says, eyes locked on the ceiling and hands tangled on her own stomach. 

“You’re thinking about him at this exact moment?” Narcissa almost sounds offended.

She is, she can’t stop thinking about him or this war. It isn’t like her last war. It is, in some part. It reminds her of the early days, the whispers and fear. When even speaking about it was an act of rebellion, something forbidden. The War of Blood is odd in that it’s almost a shadow war. People die, people are protesting, but there’s no two sides clashing like against Voldemort. The government hasn’t technically declared an enemy, just that there’s a war. 

She is the obvious figurehead often demonized by staunch supporters of the government but even then, they don’t have a way to truly declare her a criminal. She isn’t breaking any laws, her war hero status still protects her. Regardless of what’s unsaid or unclear, it’s becoming increasingly obvious James is her enemy. He opposes her in every way, he supports every radical declaration. 

She helped kill her last enemies, will she kill him too? She can’t imagine it. He’s Harry’s father, he’s still like family to her. She’s known him almost as long as she’s been in the magical world. He always made a place for her in the Potter household, inviting her over for holidays and teaching her more about magic. He is one of the few people who understood what it was like for Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the end. He’s also one of the few people she trusted to talk about her torture with. 

Now, she’s debating if killing him is necessary. She doesn’t want to but she isn’t the innocent girl she was before Voldemort, before her letter. She knows it’s a possibility. She still can’t shake the silly man in a terrible Christmas sweater from her mind. No more than she can forget the man who cashed in on her like an animal at the fair.

“I’m always thinking about him.” Hermione hums, her mind far away.

“I think it would be more accurate to say you’re always thinking.”

Hermione turns towards Narcissa. Narcissa’s head is pillowed on her arm as she looks at Hermione. She looks soft, almost like Hermione could reach for her. She doesn’t. She doesn’t feel like having to leave the room quite yet. “As are you.” Narcissa is one of the smartest people Hermione’s met and she never stops plotting. 

“Of course.”

“What would you do?” Hermione knows it isn’t wise to ask Narcissa. She has an agenda and Hermione doesn’t want to make it easy for her. 

“Whatever it took.”

She doesn’t talk to Draco often, honestly she tries to avoid him. Still, she tries this time. His favorite shirt is missing one of its onyx buttons, he said it was stolen. She went and fashioned a new one for him, spending almost as much money as she had on Narcissa’s.

“You aren’t my father, Granger.” Draco says disparagingly.

“Thank Morgana for that.” Hermione shoots back.

“I don’t want it.”

“It’s just a replacement button.” Hermione resists the urge to throttle him.

“I refuse it.”

She decides to leave before she curses him.

She doesn’t have any down time. She gets more time when the ministry eventually lets her go, citing her work to be too controversial. She accepts it and moves all of her focus into fighting against corrupt politicians and laws. When it’s all over she can go back to helping magical creatures.  
She’s reviewing a report outlining the recent raid when Ginny bursts in, eyes flashing with anger. Raids keep happening across pure-blood houses, the group doesn’t wear or claim an affiliation but she knows they’re from the ministry. She just needs to prove it. Proving unjust raids would devastate their support.

“You’re back with her?” 

“I never stopped, not really.” Hermione looks up, Ginny’s irate and pacing. 

“How can you be so casual about this? She was on Voldemort’s side, Hermione. She is our enemy.”

“She was in a precarious situation and she wanted the best for her family. She wasn’t ever truly our enemy. She’s definitely not our enemy now. After all, we don’t have sides. We’re not fighting, are we?” Hermione throws the common argument at Ginny. The wizarding world seems to think if it avoids the war long and hard enough, it’ll just disappear. 

“Why do you always go back to her?” Ginny looks at her with a wounded heart and glassy eyes. She’s desperate to understand how Hermione could go back to Narcissa every time, how she can choose to turn her back on her friends. She doesn’t understand the truth. Hermione can’t tell her, not all of it. 

“Why do we drink alcohol when we know it poisons us? It destroys our liver, ruins our kidneys, makes us mindless addicts who would do anything for more. It burns it’s way down our throats, lighting our insides on fire. Why do we suffer such a fate for a taste of poison? Because it’s intoxicating.”

“You would die for someone who treats you like less than shit because she’s intoxicating?”

“I would die for much less. As it is, Narcissa calls to me to do much more.” She can’t tell Ginny how off base the analog is, or how accurate it is. Ginny wouldn’t understand Hermione’s reasons or feelings. Yes, what Narcissa and her have is about as life threatening as a vat of acid. It’s also the most real relationship she’s ever had. 

Krum was easy but passionless. Ron was passionate but predetermined. She felt like they were routes, paths laid out before her. She dated them out of expectation not out of real tangible feelings. She felt for both of them but nothing like this. Nothing so real, so electric. Even when Narcissa’s driving her mad or ignoring her, Hermione still feels more enamored than the heights of her previous relationships.

She’s doing it for something more than intoxication or addiction, she’s doing it for something much more terrifying. A love so dangerous it has the power to bring Hermione to her knees. 

“What could that possibly be?” Ginny asks, looking for some insight into Hermione. 

“To end the war.” 

That is her goal. End the war, stop illegal laws on all sides. She wants to put an end to the cycle of terrorism. A destroys B so it’s okay that B destroys A, it’ll just keep going on if they don’t break it.

That’s her biggest pushing point, equality and unity. They cannot unite until there is equality. 

It’s an accident, that she’s at the manor on that fateful night. 

She’s scheduled to meet with Yolun, a sprite well versed in political debates. They said they’d be able to give Hermione some pointers and she is eager to learn. She only stops by the manor since she knows Narcissa is low on some herbs and there will be plenty in the shops at Yolun’s village. 

She smells the smoke and she runs. 

The grass is on fire, smoke filling the air. The smell of magical discharge and battle hexes drowns her. She stops, flickering to the past, when she hears the screams of an elf. The raiders are pulling and twisting, getting the elves out of the manor as they search for the inhabitant. As they try to locate anything illegal. After reading countless reports of the raids, she’s finally witnessing one. 

She slips by them, praying to God for the first time in years. 

She makes a bee line for Narcissa’s room and finds it empty. She goes to Draco’s next. 

She almost loses her head to an explosion.

“Hermione!” Narcissa calls out, lowering her wand.

“I’m here.” Hermione dusts the shards of wood off her.

“What are you doing here? They’ll kill you.” Narcissa hisses at her, eyes wild.

“I didn’t know you cared.” 

Narcissa curses her name in ways Hermione didn’t know it could be. “This isn’t a time to be cheeky, I need to find Draco.” That explains her almost frantic demeanor. A raid that might end in her death isn’t enough to worry Narcissa, the fate of her son is.

“I’m on it.” Hermione assures her, walking a bit closer. She reaches out and takes Narcissa’s hand, wrapping her fingers around the warm necklace. “Don’t splinch yourself trying to get back. I’ll get Draco, wait for him.”

“What-” Hermione activates the portkey and backs away, careful not to get pulled in as well. Narcissa might really kill her next time she sees her.

Hermione knows that Narcissa forgets just who she is. She thinks Hermione is foolish, too easily led by her emotions. Narcissa thinks she’s malleable. Hermione is no fool. She’s known what it was from the first time Narcissa whispered about the ministry, still covered in a sheen of sweat. Narcissa was always subtle with her nudges and manipulations, asking the right questions and her statements inoffensive enough that anyone could consume them. 

Narcissa used their relationship, the way Hermione was obviously getting attached, to further her own intentions. She saw the benefit and seized it, Hermione expected nothing less. Hermione saw it for what it was, it doesn’t mean she put a stop to it. As long as Narcissa thought she was winning, that she was influencing Hermione, Hermione had an in. It’s a bit of a joke, considering the in she desires is only given in hope that Narcissa can sway Hermione’s position. Hermione gets let into Narcissa’s world and therefore receives the most important access Hermione could want. She got the opening to protect Narcissa.

Raids are always a fear, something Hermione knows could happen. If not a raid, maybe an angry bystander on the street. Narcissa’s life is in danger as long as the war wears on. Hermione took precautions. Portkeys locked into a location far from here, several apparitions away.

The things is, they’ve both been playing each other. Manipulations and unspoken desires the amalgamation of their relationship. 

She goes to where Draco keeps the dark artefacts. If he isn’t in either Narcissa’s or his own room, it’s the only other place that makes sense. 

She’s choking on smoke and has to take out three raiders by the time she makes it to Draco.

“Granger? What are you doing here?” Draco asks weakly, grasping his side. She can see the red stain and she quickens her pace.

She doesn’t make it to him before chaos reigns down on her head. She takes cover behind a pillar, trying to protect Draco as much as she can. She takes their attention away from him, the more obvious threat. She takes down two raiders before her pillar is destroyed.

She takes two hits to her torso and twists awkwardly, hearing a crack from her ankle. 

“Hermione!” Draco calls, fear plaguing him. She reaches into her pocket, quick to beat the approaching raiders. She pulls the button free and tosses it his way. His reflexes as sharp as ever, he catches it without fumbling. 

“Go.” She coughs out, lungs battered between the smoke and curses. She moves to stand, biting down on the scream of pain when she puts weight on her foot. All she needs to do is buy Draco a few moments. Just a few moments.

She catches Draco’s shocked expression as he takes in the button and its purpose. He sees her intention to hold them off, to buy him time to escape, and he locks jaw tight. His lips press together in pain and regret.

She tosses out a spell at the raiders, it explodes dramatically causing them to scatter. 

“Thank you.” She doesn’t hear it but she sees his lips move, just before he’s gone.

The explosion they send back sends her flying, head cracking against the wall. The smoke is worse, a fire raging nearby. They didn’t send back a weak explosion. Everything is ringing and she feels herself on the edge of darkness.

A masked raider approaches, others behind them. They raise their wand and point it directly at her. She stares at the person, the wand extended, and can’t help but think about christmas sweaters and hot cocoa. 

She wonders if this is where she dies, executed on the floor during an illegal raid. She can see the other raiders looking amongst themselves, obviously uncomfortable with the predicament. Yet, none move to stop their leader.

Eventually, the wand lowers and they leave. They don’t help her. 

She can’t breathe much, the resistance in her lungs growing tighter. Everything is blurry and she isn’t sure where the exit it, the fire burns on. They didn’t execute her but she’s sure this is it. She remembers when her uncle died. Her finger brush over her bloody pants. She remembers the way her torn shirt had felt when her uncle died, how the threads split and brushed against her. Who will rend their clothes for her? Her parents don’t even remember she exists.

It’s blurry but she makes out an approaching figure. She thinks it’s him, come back to finish her.

“Hermione!” It’s distorted and it doesn’t quite sound right.

“‘M here.” Hermione mumbles out, hoping she’s heard.

“She’s in here!” The woman calls out, other figures blur into her vision. “What happened?” 

“Raiders.”

“I know that!” Narcissa’s fingers probe her throat, checking her pulse. She sounds angry and her hands are shaking. Narcissa’s hands have never shook from anger before. “What happened to you?” Her voice drops and if they were something different, Hermione might think she sounded concerned. 

“Explode.” Each word hurts to say but she’s a servant to Narcissa’s demands and right now, Narcissa needs knowledge. She needs to know exactly what happened. 

“They exploded you?” Narcissa’s tone turns dark, a looming threat. Her hands won’t stop roaming Hermione’s body. She’s taking stock of her injuries but Hermione is starting to think it’s more than that.

Narcissa is concerned, Hermione is beginning to realize that. The shake in her touch, the eagerness of which she devours Hermione, even the way she can’t seem to figure out exactly how she wants to react. Anger, care, viciousness, a million things that Narcissa won’t allow the space for. 

“Didn’t execute.”

“Oh, how generous of them. Should I send a gift basket before I gut them?” It seems Narcissa has landed on murderous. “Oh.” Narcissa’s hands pause on one of her legs, fingers pressed into the meat of her thigh. It’s the wet pants leg, the one Hermione had been touching before. Hermione’s head is dipping, exhaustion and blood loss getting the better of her. “Stay awake, darling.” Narcissa urges.

“Tired.” Hermione gasps, the other figures bustling into movement. They’re apparated out and the lights blind her, the clean air a shock to her smoke soaked lungs. She hacks and coughs, each convulsion spreading the black spots in her vision. “Don’t leave me.” She reaches out for Narcissa who’s still standing by her side.

“I won’t.” She promises Hermione, hands interlocked with Hermione’s. She didn’t think Narcissa would agree to stay, not in a million years.

“If I die-”

“Don’t.”

Hermione licks her lips, scraping the tip of her tongue against the dryness. She needs Narcissa to understand, Harry did once upon a time. 

_“If I die, I need someone to stay with my body. At least until I can be buried. I know we may not get that chance with everything but…”_

_“I’ll be there, no matter what.” Harry assures her, his expression serious. He understands the weight of her wish, the importance of it. He tightens his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his chest. She leans against him and tries not to think about how they might both be dead before the war is over._

_“Is there anything I should do?” Hermione asks, wondering if he has any wishes or religious obligations._

_“Don’t let them have my body. No matter what. If you can get it out, great. If not, destroy it.” Harry replies quickly._

_“I promise, no matter what.”_

She isn’t sure if she got lost in the memory before or after she passed out, all she knows is she wakes to bright lights and the sun peeking through her window. It’s early morning, the sun just grazing the horizon. She slowly turns her head and sees Narcissa asleep next to her, hand still pressed against Hermione. 

Hermione closes her eyes and dreams of Christmas with the Potters, the thick Hanukkah sweater Molly made for her.

Harry is by her bedside the next time she wakes, no Narcissa this time.

“Hey.” He greets, eyes outline by purple bags.

“Hi.” Her voice is rough and he gets her water for it. “How long?”

“Two weeks, the world is going mad.”

“What are they saying?”

“They’re saying it was an assassination attempt. You’re gaining more supporters. They believe the ministry and da-” He chokes on his words and looks away from Hermione. His loyalties and love divided. “They believe that he had a part in it.” Hermione says nothing and Harry’s expression drops. “I see. What are you planning?”

“What I always have, to end the war.” She goes to stand only to freeze.

“No one told you?” Harry sounds horrified. 

“First time I am awake.” Hermione murmurs, eyes locked on the empty space where her leg once was. Harry’s non-flesh hand clasps her arm, a look of understanding. 

She wants to act now to end the war as soon as she can, but she knows she must heal first. 

Narcissa is nowhere to be found over the next few weeks, Hermione doesn’t make a public statement beyond letting people know she woke up. She trains and heals, getting used to her prosthetic takes some time. 

She heals but not enough. For the second and last time in her life, she’s challenged to an Honor Duel.

“You’ve corrupted my son and turned him against me, against the ministry. You’ve publicly ridiculed me, my position as Minister, and my family.” James cites his reasons in Diagon Alley, she’d come here for new robes not to fight. He has an entourage, supporters and those to record the encounter.

“Dad?” Harry blinks, not comprehending his father’s actions. 

“What are you doing?” Hermione asks him, even she hadn’t seen him doing this. 

“What must be done. It gives me no pleasure but I have to think about my family and the wizarding world. Your divisive rhetoric is destroying us. Do you accept my challenge?”

She tries not to think about how skilled a duelist James is, how she still isn’t one hundred percent. She tries not to think about how all she can think about is Narcissa. She hasn’t seen her since waking up, she wishes she had seen Narcissa one last time. 

Not accepting James’ challenge isn’t an option. It would end her political position and effectively kill a figurehead of his opposition. It would affect the entire resistance. 

“I accept.” She stands straight but she knows, this isn’t going to go in her favor. 

Fighting him is fighting a losing battle. From the first exchange of spells that’s obvious. She isn’t wak or a poor duelist but this is an unfair fight. She wonders about his choice, sometimes after she gets thrown over a low brick wall. It’s an odd place to hold a duel, even more unlikely timing. He’s been accused of being untouchable. He’s a charming man and most everyone gushes over him, it doesn’t stop the fact he’s elevated. He’s higher than most and as a consequence, removed. She thinks this is his attempt to show his opponents he can get his hands dirty.

She takes curses and hexes when her shields or dodges fail. She lashes out hoping to land some hits. She thought about not landing hits, letting it look like what it is. A finished assassination. Her pride is too great, once again. The thought of letting him walk away without a hit makes her hit harder, faster. 

He takes her wand and she sees her life flash before her eyes. 

She sees Narcissa’s wry smirk, hears her throaty laugh, even smells her shampoo. 

It’s a trick of the mind because Narcissa isn’t here. At least it’s a pleasant trick.

“Stop!” Harry steps between Hermione and James, wand in hand but not raised.

“Harry, move out of the way.” James commands. 

“This isn’t right.” 

“She’s an enemy of the wizarding world. I’m doing what’s best for everyone.”

“I don’t care, you’ll have to go through me.” James doesn’t lower his wand at Harry declaration. She sees Harry’s shoulders drop, his grip loosen on his wand. The last betrayal Harry could take, the last heartbreak.

Hermione finds her second wind, stumbling to stand behind Harry. “If it’s what’s right for everyone, why are you pointing your wand at your own son? You started this tirade because of Trevanti and Harry, yet you took my leg and now you’re threatening Harry’s life. Do you even realize you wear masks just like the Death Eaters did? You have fallen far from where you started.”

“I wasn’t in the raid.” James protests, not addressing her other points. He does lower his wand.

“You were. Do you think this brings her back?” Harry asks and Hermione shuts her mouth. She lays a comforting hand on Harry’s back, knowing how hard this subject is for him. “It’s not the fault of pure-bloods who decided to remain neutral that she’s dead. You invented an enemy, someone to blame.”

“She thought she could trust them.” James protests, the killing of his wife a raw wound that never healed. “She was betrayed and murder by them.”

“There is no them. You created a class to take all your anger and all your frustrations. You and the ministry found a new group to oppress and punish for no reason other than you could. You were all meant to protect us, to mend wounds made during the last war. That’s what we need. We need to stop this fighting, this needless conflict, and promote equal rights. If we don’t find who we are as a community, we will end just as the Death Eaters feared.”

“It’s up to you, dad. You spearheaded this movement, you have the most power to change. It’s peace or killing your son.” Harry lays out the ultimatum. 

James looks at Harry like he doesn’t know him, he looks like he doesn’t even know himself. 

**Minister Potter makes several proposals regarding pure-blood and wizarding laws! After they passed, he turned in his resignation. This all follows his confrontation with Hermione Granger and his son, Harry Potter.**

She shuts the newspaper and takes a drink, Ralphi’s unchanged from the last time she was here. Narcissa stares at her, waiting for Hermione to say anything. Hermione has a lot to say.

“I’ve secured your son’s safety, your safety, I’ve done all that I could to secure victory. Is this enough? Have I proven myself yet? I dueled your husband, I even fought James. I will tear down the ministry if necessary, I will kill anyone who tries to continue this fruitless war. Is it enough?” Hermione’s voice stays a steady calm despite the emotion behind it. She said her piece, she’s more than shown her intentions through her actions. It’s Narcissa’s turn to offer something.

“What is it you hope to achieve?” Narcissa’s cool eyes burrow into Hermione, digging their way through her soul. Searching. For what, Hermione doesn’t know. 

“Your love, your care. That which we know exists between us. You wish for it to remain unspoken, a physical relationship that goes no further. It does go further, I refuse to hide from it. I care for you, I have since the beginning. I thought it was one way but I now believe otherwise. You do care for me but you won’t admit it, instead you hide behind a mask of disinterest.”

“How can you be so sure?” Narcissa delivers her challenge.

“You know why.” The smoke of the raid hangs between them. The fear and hope, unnecessary touches and soulful eyes.

“Why do you care?” Narcissa’s face finally breaks, her eyes full of sorrow. “We’ve never been good, darling. Not for each other. We’ve treated one another in all the ways lovers shouldn’t. After all your heart has been through, why?”

“You aren’t wrong, it would be a disservice to us if I pretended otherwise. You poisoned my heart but by God, you’re the only antidote I know.”

Narcissa’s eyes are watery and she looks away, gathering herself. She stands and walks beside Hermione, looking down at her. “You were just supposed to be fun.”

“I know.”

“Then you were supposed to be a tool.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t supposed to care.” Narcissa’s voice goes thin. Her voice doesn’t crack, Narcissa’s voice would never crack, it just gets thin and weak. If she were anyone else, it would have cracked. 

Hermione cover Narcissa’s hand with her own, the chipped wood table pricking her fingers. “I know.”

“We’re not good for each other, darling, but I’m selfish. When I first saw you here, it was like a wildfire between us. I was just as helpless to its pull as you were. I do care for you, I have for some time. I couldn’t- it was too dangerous. You were supposed to be my way to win the war, caring about you endangered that.” Narcissa admits in the dark of their bar. “It endangered my son. Then you ran into a burning building for the two of us. You protected my son at the risk of your own life. I always said I’d never be with a Gryffindor, how’s my heart supposed to survive?” Narcissa leans down and kisses Hermione, in clear view of the general public. 

“Your heart survives the same way as you do, your unending strength and ambiguous morals.”

“My morals are hardly ambiguous.”

Hermione decides not to fight her on it, instead she traces Narcissa’s expression. She knows her own heart is at risk. Narcissa has a map and compass with its exact location, she has unmonitored access to her.

Although the ministry eventually sorts itself out, she doesn’t return to work. She opens a magical creature service of her own along with Luna and Neville. Neville and her haven’t returned to how they once were, she doubts they ever really will. Somethings can’t be mended. 

She moves in with Narcissa and Draco. Narcissa takes pains to welcome Hermione and be more at ease. She finds the hardest part of their relationship becomes the gradual switch to domesticity. It’s uncharted territory in their relationship and they both keep messing it up. For a few months, they struggle with doing nothing and just being near each other. No manipulations and no agenda leaves them redefining their relationship.

It happens, eventually. They slide into easy home life. They know each other’s preferences and learn to navigate each other. 

She just finished a report on deforestation in magical creature lands when Narcissa wanders in, giving her an admonishing look. She said she’d be in bed two hours ago.

“Coming.” Hermione says sheepishly, leaving the papers on the desk in the office. Narcissa’s arms are crossed and she looks unhappy, her hair messy from where she was trying and failing to sleep. 

“You look good.” Narcissa glares at her and Hermione swallows her words, collapsing on the bed. She’s tired and her eyes hurt from reading all day.

“I couldn’t sleep without you.” Narcissa admits, it sounds like the thought perplexes her.

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to get caught up.”

“Don’t apologize. I should be able to sleep without you in bed.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s nice having someone.” Hermione replies, watching Narcissa mull it over.

“I didn’t think I’d end up here.” Narcissa muses, not unhappily. She leans over and starts helping take Hermione’s prosthetic off. 

“Do you truly think we can make it work?” Hermione asks, unable to hold it back. It’s been on her mind for months now. 

Narcissa pauses her movements, leaving the strap half undone around Hermione’s prosthetic. “Of course.”

“We’re building on top of a ruined foundation.”

“Do you not want it to work?” Narcissa asks, uncharacteristically vulnerable. Part of Hermione preens at that, at finally being allowed in after such a struggle. A whole war, as it would be.

“I want nothing more.” 

“I think of it like this.” Narcissa pauses, finishing the straps. She tenderly takes the prosthetic off and sets it aside, grumbling how magic would have been faster but she doesn’t rush her movements. “Our foundation is rotted wood and rusted beams, barely habitable. What we have now?” Narcissa kisses her way up Hermione’s body, a lingering kiss on every scar she passes. “It’s beautiful marble and steel.” 

“What if we crush our foundation?”

“I have faith that what we have now is strong enough to survive the fall.” Narcissa hovers above Hermione, half propped up. Her hand trails down Hermione’s neck, stopping just below her clavicle. “I’m certain, actually.”

“How?” Hermione asks, eyes locked onto Narcissa’s.

“I’ve already fallen for you. What we have now is decadence, a love as strong as it is beautiful.


End file.
